


Dust, gunpowder and aching

by systemicallywritten



Series: Hold my pieces together (so I don't fall apart) [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: And then proceeds to die in Tommy's arms, Angst, Basically just canon but more painful, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Crying, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Insane Wilbur Soot, Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Not A Fix-It, Not a ship, Pain, Wilbur's death, second part of series, this is literally just pain, wilbur blows up l'manberg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:34:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29333139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/systemicallywritten/pseuds/systemicallywritten
Summary: There was no way. He had to have seen wrong, maybe hallucinated. Wilbur wasn't dead. This was just a sick prank, one of the older man's fucked up antics. Faking his death for dramatic effect sounded just like Wilbur. Tommy repeated these things to himself like a mantra as he pushed his body past it's limit to pull himself up the ledge.However, his self-reassurance quieted down the second he looked at the scene in front of him. Everything did. His brain went completely blank. All he could do was stare._________________________Alternatively; Wilbur blows up L'Manburg and Tommy holds him as he dies. Ouch.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Series: Hold my pieces together (so I don't fall apart) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2154531
Comments: 3
Kudos: 64





	Dust, gunpowder and aching

**Author's Note:**

> Today I give you angst. Tomorrow? Probably the same.
> 
> This work is the second part of a three part series, I recommend reading the first part "Cold rain and chest pain" for context.
> 
> Third part is gonna be based on the exile arc and probably be even more angsty than this.

Tommy's ears were ringing when he stood up from the rubble. Smoke and dust hung heavy in the air and it made his eyes burn. It was hard to see anywhere beyond an arms lenght and even past the high pitched ringing in his ears, he could hear wails and screams. He heard his own name being yelled out somewhere in the distance but couldn't bring himself to respond. Everything was in shambles around him. The dust was slowly starting to clear, but it only made things worse. Now he could really see the damage. This... All of this was Wilbur's doing. Craters decorated the ground, along with rubble that Tommy couldn't believe had been houses mere minutes ago. Something collided with his side and he yelped in panic, reaching for his sword, expecting Dream or maybe someone else, but stilled when Tubbo's panicked voice filled his ears.

"Tommy? Tommy? Is that you? Everything is blurry," The brunette babbled, voice teary and high-pitched. The taller of the two blinked rapidly. He didn't trust his voice not to betray him, so he didn't speak, just threw his arms around his best friend, who first tensed up and then relaxed into the embrace. Tommy's lungs burned from the smoke and the sharp smell of gunpowder in the air was filling all of his senses, but Tubbo was familiar in the midst of the mess and the blonde clung to him like his life depended on it. Maybe in this moment it did. The security of knowing the other boy was alive, was helping him calm down a bit. But Tommy barely had time to feel hopeful about that fact, because his mind immediately trailed to Wilbur. The man behind all of this, his mentor, his friend. The now-traitor, that Tommy had spent months trying to fix to no avail. Of course he had recognized his friend's descend into insanity, known his plan, but he had never thought that the man would actually be capable of destroying his unfinished symphony.

"Wilbur," The blonde rasped out, voice coming out strained from a mixture of emotion and his throat being dry. He gently pushed Tubbo back, holding the shorter teen at an arm's lenght by his shaking shoulders. He noticed that the smoke had mostly cleared now, as he could see Tubbo's face clearly. He looked into the boy's tear-filled eyes intently and tone serious, continued: "Wilbur. Tubbo, do you know where Wilbur is?"

"I-I don't know, Tommy. I haven't seen him sinc-" Tubbo begun, but then pulled a confused face, eyes seemingly focused on something behind his best friend. His puzzled expression quickly twisted into one of horror, a soft gasp leaving his mouth.

"Tommy," The brunette said, pointing behind the blonde. Tommy furrowed his eyebrows, turning to look at the cause of his friend's distress. The crater spread out behind him, an open, completely wiped out space, with some of his friends and enemies running around, trying to wake up their comrades, crying, yelling for help. Complete chaos. But it wasn't what Tubbo was pointing towards. The boy's shaking finger was directed towards what was revealed above the chaotic scene. 

Tommy's eyes went wide when he saw what had shocked the shorter boy so badly. Above the crater that used to be his home, stood Wilbur and Philza... with Philza's sword aimed at the younger man. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but they were both clealy yelling. He could see the winged man's hands tremble from here. There was no way. He wouldn't hurt Wilbur. There was no way he could do it. Tommy knew how close the two were, like father and son. There was no fucking way. The teen had almost convinced himself that it would be okay, that Philza was just defending himself from Wilbur's crazed state, when the former president's voice rang out, pained and desperate, across the battlefield that had suddenly gone quiet.

"Phil, stab me with the sword, murder me now, kill me! Killza, Killza, do it!"

Tommy's blood ran cold and his breath got stuck in his throat as everything went into slow motion. Phil lunged forward in one swift, deadly movement. The sword went clean through the middle of Wilbur's body. The man's legs gave out under him and he collapsed, out of the teen's view.

Tommy's legs worked before his brain did and he broke into a run. A scream ripped out of his throat, a raw, guttural sound, making his throat burn even more. Tubbo tried to stop him, but he was too late. Tommy was already sprinting towards the small mountain. People from both sides turned to look as he ran, but everyone easily came to a silent agreement not to step in. The boy climbed up the jagged stone, not even noticing when sharp edge ripped open the knee of his jeans and his already-bruised skin along with it. His arms and legs were tired, but the adrenaline pushed him up the hill, until he reached the top. 

There was no way. He had to have seen wrong, maybe hallucinated. Wilbur wasn't dead. This was just a sick prank, one of the older man's fucked up antics. Faking his death for dramatic effect sounded just like Wilbur. Tommy repeated these things to himself like a mantra as he pushed his body past it's limit to pull himself up the ledge.  
However, his self-reassurance quieted down the second he looked at the scene in front of him. Everything did. His brain went completely blank. All he could do was stare.  
Wilbur laid on the hard stone, blood slowly pooling underneath him, tainting the floor a sinister crimson. He was breathing heavily or maybe it was more like gasping for air, eyes closed in pain. Philza was on his knees next to him, hand in Wilbur's sweaty hair, stroking the curls, voice quiet, whispering words of meaningless comfort to his dying son. He looked up when Tommy involuntarily let out a pained sob. The man looked at the blonde, eyes heavy with sadness and wordlessly moved away to give him space next to his friend.

Tommy's knees gave out then and there and he crawled to Wilbur, frantically pulling the man's upper body towards him with trembling hands. Wilbur let out a pained sound and blinked his eyes open to look at the boy. A mournful smile spread onto his face and he let out a soft laugh.

"Tommy, you're here," The brunette rasped out, reaching out with a bloody hand to push hair out of Tommy's eyes: "It had to be done. I hope you underst-"

"Shut up, Wilbur!" Tommy barked out harshly, voice cracking. His hands clutched Wilbur's coat tightly, like they had the night they had been exiled and Wilbur had held him to keep him safe. The teen shook his head, tears filling his eyes: "Don't give me this dying talk bullshit. We're gonna fix you up. You can't- I'm not letting you die! We- We're in this together, you dickhead."

"Tommy," Wilbur said and his tone was so sickly gentle and peaceful it made the teen feel ill. The brunette shifted in Tommy's arms, letting out a pained hiss and screwing his eyes shut for a moment before opening them again as he continued: "There's nothing you can do. This is it for me. This is how I want to go. It's all right here, Tommy, don't you see? It's only fair I go with my greatest creation."

"No, no," Tommy protested, tone and mannerisms frantic. He couldn't let this happen. There had to be something he could do. Anything at all. Removing the sword wouldn't work, it'd just make it worse. Maybe a health potion could buy him extra time? But he had none on him anymore. He looked up at Philza, eyes full of despair, begging, pleading for the older man to have a solution, but Phil just shook his head, not meeting his eyes.

"Tommy, it's okay," Wilbur spoke, weakly squeezing the boy's wrist. Tommy looked back at him and he wanted to scream at the man, shake him, God, maybe finish him off himself. Anything to get that somber smile off his face. It wasn't fair. Wilbur had put him through so much in the past months, betrayed him and now he was just leaving before giving Tommy the answers he needed and fucking deserved?

"You promised you were gonna get better," The teen said, bitterly and Will moved in a way that could've been a shrug and replied: "I don't think we have the same idea of better. This is better."

"Oh, fuck you," Tommy spat, voice breaking. He pressed his face into Wilbur's chest, once again a painful parallel to their first night in exile together. Wilbur drew in a ragged breath, chest vibrating. His hand came up to brush against the back of Tommy's neck and the teen broke, sobbing desperately. It was hopeless, it was all so hopeless. His friend was dying in his arms and there was nothing he could do. Today was supposed to be a victory by Wilbur's side, not a loss, clinging to the last bits of life the man still had inside of him.

"Wilbur," Tommy wailed, unable to control his voice at all anymore as the grief settled painfully into his chest: "Wilbur, what am I gonna do?"

"Shhhh, Tommy," The older man whispered, weakly stroking his hair: "I don't have an answer for that anymore. It's time you figure it out for yourself."

"I can't- Will, I can't," The teen sobbed, pulling back to look at Wilbur. The brunette's face was getting paler by the second and his brown eyes were already cloudy when they met Tommy's bright blue ones. He didn't have long, Tommy knew it. How was he supposed to accept it though? What could he even say when there was so much he still needed to tell his mentor?

"You can," The taller man spoke and Tommy knew his tone would've been confident and encouraging if it wasn't so tired and weak. He was never going to hear that tone again. He was never going to feel that sense of security again. 

"Please don't leave me," was all the boy could say. He wasn't ready. He couldn't do this all alone. He had spent the past months with Wilbur as the only constant, sure thing in his life. Now he was expected to let go of that too. It was utterly ridiculous for the brunette to assume he could do it. He was just a kid. It had been only weeks since Wilbur had called him a naive, inexperienced child who could never lead.

"Tommy, it's- it's gonna be okay," Wilbur breathed out, flashing Tommy a weak grin. A grin that would've normally reassured him, but now chipped away at the teen's resolve like a pickaxe through netherrack. It was empty. Wilbur's words, his smile. They were all empty. Lies, to ease his own guilt, without a doubt. Tommy resented him for it.

"I hate you," He snapped and immediately regretted it, breaking into a fit of sobs again, collapsing against his friend's still frame, shaking his head and blabbering: "No no, I didn't mean that. I didn't. I didn't. I don't hate you. I don't. Please stay, please. I need you. Will, I need you. I can't do this."

Wilbur was silent and Tommy kept repeating those words over and over, unable to stop. Slowly his speech became incoherent and turned into wordless cries into the taller man's shirt and Wilbur was still silent. Too silent, Tommy realized after he started to come down. A feeling of dread sunk it's claws into his heart and he stilled, trying to listen for a heartbeat.

"Wilbur?" He whispered. No response. He couldn't find a heartbeat or feel Wilbur's chest rise. Still, he tried again.

"Will? Wilbur?"

Nothing. Not even a twitch.

"Wilby?"

Tommy's voice was so desperate, like a prayer, but even the silly nickname Wilbur had always loved didn't provoke any sort of reaction. Tommy knew it was over, but he couldn't bring himself to accept it. Not yet. 

'He's just sleeping,' The teen told himself, nodding mentally. Yes, that was it. His friend was just sleeping. It was like freezing nights in Pogtopia, holding each other so they wouldn't fall apart. That was it. It had to be. If Tommy closed his eyes he could almost believe it. Blood was soaking his jeans, but he told himself it was water. Wilbur was okay, he had to be okay. Tommy almost managed to convince himself, when Phil's voice brought it all crashing down.

"Tommy, he's gone."

And suddenly the scenario wasn't a night in Pogtopia anymore, no, it was a stage with the smell of fireworks and clutching his friend's lifeless body in his arms and screaming his throat raw. It was hands trying to pull him away, it was the clashing of swords, Schlatt's laughter and the words "Tommy, he's gone."

Again. It was happening again. Except this was worse. When Tubbo had been shot by Technoblade, the boy had been on his second life, still able to return to the land of the living, but this was not the case for Wilbur. This had been his final life. No coming back, Wilbur was gone.

"No, no, no, no," Tommy whimpered, agressively shaking his head against Wilbur's chest. He felt like he was going to be sick. This was too soon, too out of nowhere. And he was being forced to accept it. He wondered what the last words Wilbur had heard him say were? He prayed it wasn't "I hate you". 

A hand landed on his shoulder and he held Wilbur tighter in fear of being pulled away from the man too soon. He wasn't ready yet. He couldn't pull back and look at Wilbur's colorless, dead face.

"Tommy."

It was Tubbo's voice frantic, almost as sad as the blonde's circling thoughts. Tommy drew in a shaky breath. He couldn't face his friend. Not now. But Tubbo was insistent, pulling on Tommy's shoulder.

"Leave me al-" Tommy started, but Tubbo cut him off, words spilling from his mouth like a fountain: "Tommy, I know. I know. But please, Techno is losing his shit down there. H-He released Withers. We need all the help we can get. Please Tommy, we need you out there. We can grieve later."

These words made Tommy still and loosen his hold on Wilbur's jacket. He slowly pulled back, eyes closed so he wouldn't have to look at Wilbur yet, turning to Tubbo, eyes blurry from tears. Tubbo's expression matched his, full of grief and fear. Tommy couldn't have another death today. No way. He slowly stood, legs shaking and accepted the sword Tubbo was holding out to him. The boys nodded at each other and Tommy took a glance at Phil who nodded in understanding. Tommy's feelings about the man were confusing, but he knew he'd make sure Wilbur's body was safe so they could give him a proper burial later.

Tommy and Tubbo sped out into the battlefield. Tommy fought like he was in a tramce, taking out his anger and betrayal on his sword and whoever stood at the end of it. Tommy had no idea how long it took, but eventually the Withers had been slain and they had the situation under control as well as they could as their enemy troops retreated.  
Tommy took a look at the damages around them. He looked for friends, fearing to see a body laying in the field, but everyone seemed relatively okay, at least as okay as they could be considering how bad the situation was. His eyes fixated on Tubbo speaking to Niki a few meters away. He watched her go still and screwed his eyes shut when her soulcrushing scream ripped through the air. He was glad Tubbo had told her, so he didn't have to. The two had been close friends. Tommy understood her pain more than anyone.  
Tubbo turned to him, after Quackity walked over to him and Niki, taking over comforting the girl who was on her knees on the ground, sobbing. Tubbo waved tiredly and Tommy waved back, taking a step to walk to his best friend, but that was the moment he reached his limit. His knee gave out and he collapsed on the ground. He heard Tubbo scream out his name and then he lost conciousness.  
_______________________

Tommy spent the next few days in a makeshift hospital tent, regaining his strenght. Friends came and went, but Tubbo stayed right by his side the entire time, like he was scared to lose him. Tommy was glad. He didn't know if he could handle the emotional distress along with his weakened physical state all alone.

Wilbur's funeral was on the third day. Tommy couldn't even cry anymore, but his voice shook when he gave a speech about his friend and how great he had been before his descend into insanity. He left the funeral, feeling empty. As he was limping back towards the crater of L'manberg though, he heard a familiar voice yell out his name and the flap of wings. Philza flew over him, looped around and stopped in front of him, catching his breath. They hadn't really talked since what had happened. 

"Hey, Tommy," The older male greeted and Tommy acknowledge him with a nod and a hum, not quite being able to bring himself to smile. He wasn't sure if he was angry at Phil or not. Or if he even had the right to be. Maybe he was less angry about the fact that he had killed Wilbur and more angry about the fact that he hardly seemed affected. 

"I kinda need to go back to the hospital before I pass out again," The boy said, tone flat, cocking an eyebrown at the winged man in a questioning manner. 

"Yes, yes, right," Phil muttered, setting his bag down on the ground and pulling something out of it and holding it out to Tommy. The teen's head swam when he realized what it was. Wilbur's coat. It had been washed, but there was still clearly a bloodstain on it and Tommy could smell the gunpowder from here.

"I didn't know if you would want it. I have a lot of Wilbur's stuff and I'm giving some of it away to his friends as... comfort or reminders, I guess. It only seemed fair to offer this to you," The man explained, tone careful but calm. Tommy nodded, opening his mouth to speak but closing it again when his voice threathened to crack. He simply held his arms out and Phil handed the coat over to him. The teen accepted it, pressing it close to his chest and nodded again in acknowledgement and a silent thank you. Phil nodded too, a tad awkwardly and wished Tommy a speedy recovery before making some excuse about there being more things he needed to give people, despite his bag being empty and flew off.  
Tommy watched him go and dragged himself back to the hospital tent, ignoring Tubbo's question about the coat. He laid down on his bed, buried his face into the coat, despite the strong stench of explosives and fell asleep like that.

It was the best sleep Tommy had gotten in days. Images of Wilbur keeping him safe during that first night in Pogtopia flashed through his head as he fell asleep and after that, the coat is what became a constant in his life, in place of his old friend. Tommy curled up with it every single night, despite confusion and amusement from his friends. They didn't get it.

As long as Tommy had his reminder of who had kept him safe, he was safe.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed?? Is that appropriate to say here?
> 
> Kudos and comments are extremely appreciated and encouraged :)


End file.
